A Soul For A Soul
by reapersama101
Summary: Her mother was soulless. Her mother's family was...strange. She? She was just Sim-Cathy. Best friend, Donna Blake. Now she's turning down the "Jager" road and learning quick that she is no longer just Sim-Cathy. She is a hunter.  PaulxOC
1. Prologue

She glared down at me in empty concentration as I simply stood there, frozen in my eight-year old fear. She looked gorgeous; same as always. Her long mahogany hair fell in an intricate wave of curls to the midst of her back. Her eyes shone a soft yet so cold honey gold as they remained glossed over in her steep concentration. I was afraid to ask why she was staring at me as I had only been playing a game of Jacks in the back. She constantly did this; she seemed to follow me wherever I went no matter what and she would just stand and she would just stare at me. I could be miles away or even visiting my grandmother in Ohio and she would still simply find me. It scared me to a point where I couldn't even talk. It wasn't even the stillness in which she stood; more of the emptiness that I saw in her eyes. I would always believe, no matter what, that she did not love me.

I turned back to the ball and mass of spiky Jacks, knowing that she would simply stand there until I went inside and she would not relent until one of us got tired and fell asleep. My father would always say that she loved me; that I could never find a way to make her stop loving me. But sometimes I saw the doubt in his expressions; I saw that he didn't believe his own words. However whenever my mother would look towards my father, her face, as angular and as flawless as it was, would soften and she would give this heartbreakingly sad smile. We never did discover why her smile was so sad.

I picked up the ball and Jacks, turning to get the soft velvet bag to put away the toys. However a hand stopped me from reaching the bag, clutching onto my hand with such a frosty grip that I instantly saw my hands begin to turn red with the cold. If she had held on much longer, I was sure they would turn blue. I did not ask why her hands were so cold. I turned to my mother, the one I knew only because of the biological connection, and narrowed my eyes in confusion, feeling my cheeks hollow as I pursed my lips in irritation. I had always found a way to be irritated and scared all at once, what with my German/Irish heritage.

I looked nothing like my mother, even in the youthful year of eight years old. I always looked like my father with angular features and the dazzling green eyes. My hair fell in a way that was positively stick-straight rather than my mother's curls and far more bizarrely orange rather than my mother's mahogany. And I had never been thin, never been willowy like my mother or tall. I was always short and stubby-like.

"What now, mother?" I managed to hiss at the woman as she released her grip on my hand. She narrowed her eyes in my direction yet her eyes drifted into yet another glossy gaze. "I would advise you to not use that tone with me, little girl." My mother announced, her tone empty and ever so monotonous. I frowned blatantly at this, the irritation fusing with anger inside me.

However I said nothing.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Six Years Later…<strong>_

Donna clutched onto my hand as I dug my opposite hand into the vinyl of the padded bench beneath me. Not a sound came from the room as Donna and I waited outside, her patient and yet me not. I was terrified that the child hadn't made it and that somehow my mother's cruelty had reached into her insides and elicited a stillborn. I was terrified that quite possibly this child might turn out to be like my mother in all of her cruelty and all of her evilness. However Donna constantly placed a comforting arm around my shoulders, claiming that this baby, this child, would be the best thing that ever happened to me. To me that sounded a bit pathetic but I suppose it would have to do.

My hair dropped to frame my face at mid-neck length, framing my features in a delicate ring of dark highlights and red-orange locks, as I placed my head in my hands and my elbows rested on my knees. "Sim, everything will be alright. Your mom will be fine and so will your little whatever it is." Donna attempted as she placed her hand at the center of my back. If I was to be honest, I was hoping that this child would make it through and my mother wouldn't. She held no love for anything other than my father and I had no doubt she would be just as cruel to this child as she was to me as I grew older. By now, the age of fourteen just barely resting on my shoulders, I had lost all fondness or love for my mother. She was nothing but a blank slate and a harsh piece of metal that only ever softened for my father.

The doctors' voices echoed from the hospital room as I attempted to shut everything out and fantasize what life would be without my mother. I prayed silently for that woman, that harsh cruel evil woman, to die in birth and leave us alone. I had never prayed for anyone to die, never thought about anyone dying with such a fondness. And I believed that many others had also fantasized what the world would be without my mother in it.

I could only wish that my grandmother had been alive to see this new birth. My grandmother had been a very kind, very gentle soul. She had always told me that my mother had been going through a "rough patch" when I told her my doubts in my mother loving me. My grandmother had always comforted me when I had woken in the midst of the night to my mother standing at the foot of my bed at her house. She had always told me that my mother had simply missed me and had come to watch me sleep though I constantly knew that she disbelieved her own words and was quite scared of my mother's stalker-esc tendencies.

At this moment, my grandmother would inform me that my mother would bring a good soul into this world and that I must be grateful for that. She would tell me that my mother would always love me and this new child. However I could never believe her.

I only became aware, yet again, of Donna's hand on my back and the pause of the doctors' voices when I heard the crack of a baby crying, elicited from the hospital room in which my mother had taken residence in. I whipped my head in the direction of the door as I heard it begin to creak open. I turned to find my father, gowned in his mint-colored scrubs, swiping away sweat from his brow and pulling his hands free of his latex gloves. He opened his mouth to speak, the scruff of his stubble parting for his mouth and his eyes glinting in a brilliant green light. You could just barely note the orange-like tendrils, seeping from the bandana on his head and his skin seemed so tan. That appeared to be the only difference between my father and me; our skin seemed to contrast in shades. His skin would always seem so tan whereas mine would always appear a snowy white. Then there was the difference in which I was a girl.

My breath caught as I awaited the news of my mother's and my new sibling's well-being. My father took a deep breath and swallowed before he announced to us the news. "Your mother is fine; she's just resting right now." My father began before his face broke into a fresh grin. "And the baby…." He trailed off for a moment, his eyes glazing over in a daze of new fatherhood. "Well, he's a boy!" My father finally exclaimed. Despite the news of my mother's well-being, my lips parted in a wide grin, allowing all to see my delight in having a new baby brother. I stood from my seat on the bench, Donna following in my every movement before finally I turned to her and grinned.

I could feel my gaze begin to drift in my own haze as I began to imagine everything. My new brother…I would take care of him no matter what and I would do everything in my power to keep him safe. "I have a new brother," I dreamily sighed as Donna took me into a tight embrace. I hugged my best friend back with every fiber of my being, dreaming hazily of my new life as an older sister. Donna squealed from behind our hug as I clutched onto her.

* * *

><p><em>Something is wrong.<em>

I woke to the pitch dark of night, my room emptier and warmer than it had been for several years by now. This could possibly be from the absence of my mother at the foot of my bed. Though I enjoyed the warm feeling of the room as I lay beneath the thick comforters, something felt off in the house to me. Something seemed to be bad in this house; worse than my mother's presence.

I pried my body from the sheets and comforters, pulling my legs to the ground. I attempted at walking without making the sounds that are called for with the wooden floorboards however they still creaked. I stepped into the hall, noting that there was one single light that streamed throughout the entire hallway. I followed the stream of light, coming to a close at Tim's nursery. I frowned as I tapped on the door, opening it with the slightest nudge.

I peered inside, shielding my eyes from the brighter light and forcefully looked to see what had come into this room. My stomach churned in anticipation and horror before I even saw what had come to happen among my younger brother's nursery. I leapt forward, gripping tight onto my mother's arm and hoping to pry it away from the pillow and away from my dying younger brother. "Natalie! Stop it! You're gonna kill him!" I screeched at my mother though she showed no signs of looking up. No emotion was drawn to her eyes, no tears of longing not to do this; nothing was inside my mother. Nothing lived there.

I was terrified by the lack of screaming coming from my younger brother as I tugged and pulled with all my feeble strength to tear my mother's arms away from my smaller brother. Finally I felt my mother's arms give way from the pillow though not by my force. The tears began to come in assumption that my baby brother, a mere month old, had passed through murder by his own mother. I peered up only for a moment to see that my father was holding my mother back by her arms, staring at her in a strange emotion I would ponder on later. I took forward to my brother's crib, stomach clenching in terror and horror, before I finally heard a relieving noise that would haunt me to one day; a hiccup. I stretched my arms into the crib, prying my brother in all his awareness from his sheets and pulling him close to my chest, cradling him in my arms.

As Tim began to cry in my arms, pulling closer to my chest, my breathing came in ragged gasps; terrified for my brother's life. I glanced up at my father, that strange emotion still in his eyes and still painful to see. He held my mother close to his body as if in an embrace though his arms pinned my mother's arms at her sides. She simply looked up at him with that sad, sad smile that disgusted me at that point. I only turned away from my mother's disgusting smile once Tim's cries turned into screeches.

I shushed my brother in my arms, my own tears dried and my body becoming heavy with exhaustion and exasperation. I gave my father a nod quickly, assuring him that I would care for Tim and he could take my mother away from the nursery and away from my sight. My father took this as a sign to drag my mother out, her arms still pinned and her smile still in place though only for him. I stopped watching in disgust when I heard the door slam to their bedroom. My father would take care of her, possibly. I had no clue how and I didn't believe I wanted to know.

I continued to shush my baby brother as I turned to the rickety rocking chair and sat, calming my brother's cries to a wheeze then to a breathy snore. That was the night we discovered just how far gone my mother was.

* * *

><p><em><strong>2 Years Later…<strong>_

My father stood at the post, his handkerchief in hand and his face lined with wrinkles and exasperation. His suit pulled taut at his body as it was old but only I noticed. A single tear dripped into his ear as he lifted his head to the sky, silently praying, I knew. Tim wriggled in my arms, itching and pulling at his child-sized suit and his red and black striped tie. All was silent in the church as we all sat at the pews; many mourning, others asking why they were here today as they had never met this woman. And most of them, no doubt, had secrets involving the deceased.

"Natalie's…." My father trailed off as he recognized the present-tense of his statement, shutting his eyes in emotional distraught while I simply looked on. I wished that I could hold the same pain as my father; I wished that Timothy could hold memories of her in his fresh mind. However, these wishes were as dead as Natalie herself. "Natalie _was _a kind woman. She was beautiful and kind and daring and she was just…she was just a very…she was just a very _original_ person." My father stuttered, his voice releasing in a rasp as he lifted his handkerchief dabbing at his forehead.

Tim looked up at me, his bright hazel green eyes questioning just what exactly was happening as I sat silently and still in my own pew in the front as one of the family members of the deceased. Timothy would never ask where Natalie was simply because he would never know _who_ Natalie was. Honestly I never knew either. Resentment strung lightly through my veins at Natalie as I kept my arm wrapped around my younger brother on my lap. Tim jammed his tiny thumb into his mouth, lightly sucking on it. For today I would allow him to do this.

Adrian, my parents' lawyer, patted my lap from beside me. Adrian was a kind old man with a head of white hair and bright navy eyes and at this moment, he didn't fit into the dark suit that he had on. We would have to speak with Adrian immediately after the funeral due to the things that Natalie had left behind for us. I had no clue that the soulless bitch could leave behind things for people she didn't care about.

As my father closed his eulogy and began to exit, stage left, I bounced my baby brother on my knee, smiling at him for reassurance despite the gloomy surroundings.

Tendrils of iron and steel engraved the edges of the wooden chest as its wood seemed decoratively singed and furnished. The handles beautifully fit around my hands whenever I felt the need to lift such an enormous box. However the lock, intricate and elaborate as it was, gouged into the center of the front of the chest, surrounded by the beautiful, thick design. Vines and sigils dabbed at every other area upon the wood, embarked in metal.

I had the key. I just refused to open the chest, despite its beauty and air of mystery, due to whom it was from. Natalie; my biological mother who had spent years upon years frightening the wits out of me. Since I had been born, not once had this woman shown a kindness such as love to me. I did not believe that this woman, this monster who had attempted at murdering my own baby brother after he had been just a mere month old, loved me. I wished to never open this box however there would be a day where I would find it necessary; where I would find the mystery far too tempting and I would open the confines of this chest and find the inner-workings of my biological mother; of Natalie Leona Jager Curamach.

"It's really gorgeous, Cat," Donna admired in a whisk of breath. I rolled my eyes, turning to add a menacing glare however it held no affect upon my beloved best friend. "I can't say it's not," I admitted in a grumble as I turned to sit at my desk. Donna eyes darted back and forth, between me and the offensive object due to its previous owner. "It might not even be your mother's, ya know." Donna murmured as she fell, back-first onto my bed behind the chest. I cocked an eyebrow in the direction of my beloved friend. "What do you mean?" I questioned back just as quietly. Donna shrugged, the action muffled by the sheets and comfort of my bed.

"I _mean_, it's most likely that this is an heirloom to be passed on. I don't know; to, like, the first born or something…?" Donna elaborated, her face contorting in confusion and doubt at her own words. However when she looked at me, I could do nothing but believe the adorable girl. The young fellow sixteen year old girl held a head of thick, golden blond hair, her face a more rectangular shape than my angular and her eyes a beaming, soft doe-eyed golden brown. She often wore the same clothing; a black tank top and jeans with a gray hoodie. Every part of her screamed effortlessly beautiful and cute.

"It does look really old," I admitted, my voice lower than intended. I glanced up from the chest only to peer at Donna, frowning as I sighed through my nostrils. "I'll open it one day. Just, not today." I admitted to the young friend. Donna frowned but nodded nonetheless, mockingly surrendering.

* * *

><p><em><strong>PRESENT:2 years later<strong>_

I stared at the offending object that represented all that I hated; Natalie. The chest merely stood, unaffected by my glare as I began to prepare myself. Donna was off in the living room of our apartment, the television buzzing and her completely unaware that today would be the day that I peered into the inner workings of my biological mother's bizarre homicidal mind. She had no clue that today my life would change.

I gripped the old-fashioned key in my hand, despite the imagined feeling that it was burning, white-hot in my palm. The key itched to unlock the very fabric of my life, the only thing that kept me sane. It was the feeling that that lid on that chest was closed; that she was out of my life forever that kept me going and kept me sane. It was the feeling that I didn't need to know what was behind the four wooden walls of the chest. But I could no longer have that feeling as I _did_ need to know. I needed to in order to live or at least that was how it felt.

Finally I took the few shaky steps necessary to get to the chest. Nothing was physically harming me or keeping me away from this chest however it felt as if a hand was gripping at me, attempting to pull me back and attempting to stop me from opening this chest. It was as if this chest would open Pandora's box and if that happened…it could be the end of me.

I lifted the key, pulling it in my hand to where the point was positioned away from me and prepared to unlock this chest full of mysteries. It would unlock everything ever needed to know.

_Click._

* * *

><p><em><span>AN: __So that was just a build-up to the actual story which will begin from when she opens the trunk and stay on her at the age of 18. I don't own Twilight though I wish I did sometimes. And no worries; it will get a hell of a lot better than this crappy Prologue. Just please read on and remember to review. (Oh and for Mr. D fans, I will put him in after it gets past being all serious and…yeah.) _

_Just please read on because I promise it will get better and more action-packed than this piece of crap. Ooh, and it'll bring in a lot of secrets and family secrets and Ooh! Ooh! It'll bring in a few stories of everything. But here's a hint: what is Jager in German? I'll give the answer in the next chapter. __Thanks for reading thus far! _


	2. Hunter Part 1

_Hunter (Part 1):_

Time appeared to stand still as my clammy hands began to lift the lid of the chest, appearing to unravel the very amount of sanity in my mind. I could not make sense of what I saw the moment I peered into the chest as my brow began to furrow in steep concentration and confusion at what was before me.

The first thing I pulled from the chest's confines was a tinted glass vial. My mind strummed at its fastest rate, attempting to comprehend the vial as I looked to its companions within the chest. There was a line of vials, the first of which I held within my palm, then a line of jars then a thick stack of books. Then the order repeated at least three times, each time appealing to the confusion that came along with this chest. Each stack of books must have held at least six books per stack, making an easy eighteen within the entire chest. Several of the books appeared worn, leather and bound with the strongest of cords and latches. However none appeared to be locked, assuming that the chest had taken care of the amount of privacy required.

"Well, at least it doesn't say 'drink me'." I murmured sarcastically, my brows arching as I spoke in reference to the vial that I held. The tint of the glass appeared a plum-like color, appealing to the eye however the closer the vial came to my face, the less appealing it appeared as a rank odor fanned out. I was shocked that no one had smelt the foul odor from the outside of the chest with a mix of gasoline, skunk spray and sewage. I frowned as I debated on what to do with the miniature bottle. I decided upon simply looking before I decided upon uncorking the confining glass and releasing an ever fouler odor to my bedroom.

"Damn skunk water." I muttered as I turned the bottle on its side in a determined search for any form of label or organizing. How would I determine what was inside when there was no label? However I found no label whatsoever but I did indeed find a stamp, engraved deeply within the cork. Though the cork was worn and chipped I could just barely make out a definite roman numeral: XVI…16?

I decided upon attempting to look further into this little bottle's solution rather than analyzing other bottles. Jars clashed within the bottle, their glass outers clanking as they were forced upon each other as I fought my way to the first amount of books. The first three thick volumes I could recognize as being similar at least, each beginning with "Jager" and then a roman numeral. First of the three nearest the back of the chest appeared to be "Jager LXV—Dianna Query Jager". Almost instantly I recognized that as my grandma's grandmother's name. My brow was once more furrowed as I turned to the next leather volume, a little less worn however very old. "Jager LXVI—Leslie Anne Jager" came next, directly beside Dianna Query's book; my great-grandmother. I was now finding it safe to assume that these were my family's females' journals within the chest rather than just some random encyclopedias or the like.

I was concerned however when I discovered that there were two more journals; "Jager LXVII—Natalie Leona Jager" and "Jager LXVIII—Natalie Leona Jager II". My own mother had her journal placed in this chest and no matter how much I wished to decipher the soulless creature that was my biological mother, I couldn't bear to think of a day in which I actually opened the diary. After all four of the journals, one book in particular stood out; a journal in which was very much larger than all of the others; "Bequemlichkeit" or rather something in German that I would require a German-English dictionary. However my curiosity got the better of me and I began to pull the thick journal free of the chest's confines. Almost immediately upon the release of the journal, a creak set out from the wood of the chest and the books opposite of the journal began to fall in a disorderly fashion.

I ignored the messy consequences of relieving the chest of the journal and flipped open the cover. The journal easily reached halfway up my calves, near about to my knees. "What you got in here, buddy?" I murmured absently as I began to jovially flip the pages, a hum thrumming in my chest as I had very much realized that I was working with books and objects that could multiply my life by the double digits and still be older. It was a good hum so far.

Lists of roman numerals began to line up, one after the other; beginning in the single digits and going, number by number. Each roman numeral was accompanied at the side by some form of ingredient or object name and I soon realized that this was somewhat of a way to keep track of all of the objects within the chest. It was easy to come to sixteen and I was quite shocked to find that what was inside the bottle was crushed petals, liquefied of the flower Rafflesia Arnoldii. This meant absolutely nothing to me as I had no clue what had been so special or collectible about this flower. However I was even more mightily concerned with the contents of the chest when I noticed what was in number 17: hound's blood aka dog's blood. I searched the stoppers for the "XVII" that would indicate number 17 and soon found it at the beginning of the jars. As I plucked the jar from its line, the thick red liquid sloshed within the confines of the jar. I could only hope that this was dog blood and not human blood.

"You know, grams; they say that killing small animals, well small_er_ animals, is a sign of homicidal nature." I murmured nippily to the jar, my eyes darting to every glance and glimmer that shone within the thick red blood. I frowned as I turned to the Bequemlichkeit, my fingers playing with the pages and separating them as I began to read on.

Though the title had been in German, much of the Bequemlichkeit was translated into English. Though it was poor English, it was still enjoyably readable. However I came to realize that much did not make sense within the Bequemlichkeit.

* * *

><p>"What do you think it means?"<p>

Donna began to glance between me and the Bequemlichkeit. "Well, first of all Google sure can help; the title means 'convenience' which means this was most likely used for a guide. As for a guide to what…." Donna's voice trailed, the tone deep and her implications obviously the same as what I had concluded to as well. "I believe that your ancestors, however recent they were," Her eyebrows shot to the roof in the implication that she was speaking of my mother. "Witches. These here have to be spells because they sure as hell aren't Betty Crocker recipes." Donna grunted out. I knew that she was referring to the more sacrificial…recipes that required blood of certain animals and sometimes even the user.

"Witchcraft is very much real even though it's not always effectively 'Harry Potter' crap." Donna continued as I began to narrow my eyes into a glare, forcing the hateful stare upon the Bequemlichkeit. "Well, most of this has got to be bullshit." I announced, my eyes rolling in their sockets at even the preposterous idea of such things being real. "I mean," I began as I snatched the Bequemlichkeit from my beloved friend's hands. How she could possibly muster up the upper body strength to hold such a thing one-handed was beyond me. "She talks about…fairies, for Christ's sake!" I near-about shouted. I never intended to be loud or disruptive however my fuse had always been a tad bit shorter than all others'. Compared to me, all other fuses appeared to be wrapped around the world eighty times.

Donna snorted at my declaration as she gently took the Bequemlichkeit from me and placed it upon my desk. The book dropped with a huff of dust and a large thud. For a moment we were both silent, simply standing beside the wide-open chest and its many kinds of crazy. Each item by now had been placed out for display and inventory. According to the Bequemlichkeit, a book at least eight times my age, all was here and all was dusty. I glanced at the array of jars and vials and books, many of which we had no clue of who wrote them. I brought my hand, dusty to high heavens, and rubbed my face in exasperation before I dropped to my bed, eliciting a squeak.

"I don't know, Cat." Donna finally claimed as she sat beside me on my bed and placed a weary hand on my shoulder. "But everything started out as impossible, honey." She gently offered as her nails scratched at my back. Though many times I would tell her to back off and quit being such a lesbian in a joking voice, now appeared the worst time to do such as I could really use the comfort that she was giving. I finally turned my eyes in my head to look at her, too tired to move my actual head. "Computers, electricity, even most animals; they all started out as nothing but fairytales that people would tell children. Though many of the stuff we have today been thought of at the time, it was all thought of as fiction." Donna continued, her voice soft and cautious as though I would run off like a scare doe.

I reached up, scrubbing at my face yet again and feeling the grit that had been traded from the jars and vials and books to my hands fall onto my face. As I ran my hands through my hair and holding my hair in a ponytail behind my head I turned to look at my best friend, uncomprehending. "What are you saying?" I asked wearily, my voice rasping from mental exhaustion and frustration. Donna grinned at me, glad and grateful to have my attention. Something odd told me she would be thanking the lord tonight for his part in this. Though I had no interest in religion, she had quite the bit.

"I'm saying that in order for us to believe any of this or even to disbelieve any of this; we will require proof of whether or not some of this stuff works." Donna explained as though this would simply bring the best conclusion to this situation. I furrowed my brow at her, still uncomprehending and feeling like a dumb blonde at the moment for not having already figured out what she was saying. "We are going to summon Old Lady Jager's soul for the evening." Donna announced proudly, undeterred by my lack of comprehension.

My lips parted lightly in shock as my eyes began to widen. Though my body slacked a slight amount off of the bed, I managed to save myself from falling completely off, my hands still frozen in my hair. "You are just as insane as the bat-shit crazy ladies in my family." I insulted as I stood to my feet, finally removing my hands yet I knew I looked murderous at this moment with splayed hair and a dusty face along with the expression of bewilderment that I managed to captivate. Donna frowned, her bottom lip jutting into a pout at this. After a moment of serious silence her lip returned to normal and she shut her eyes, most likely to calm herself at my "narrow-mindedness".

"What have we got to lose?" Donna whined as she stood as well, facing me directly and an easy head taller than me though most of the time she reacted as though she should be the short and cute girl, not me. I cocked my eyebrows to the sky in amazement at such a statement. "Well, my sanity is obviously on the line here!" I cried out at my beloved friend. In my mind, I only saw it one way and that way was saying that if I admitted to this; if I even dared say that I believed one ounce of this, I would end up like my mother and that would be a soulless, evil creature that attempts to murder her baby in the midst of night. I would never condemn myself to such an Insane Asylum as my mother's family so seemed to be. Or at least, I hoped I wouldn't.

But I would. Eventually that night I had agreed to cook up an original Jager family recipe; a séance. Or at least, it was a version of a séance; it was one of the spells that we had discovered before our conversation among the other spells in the Bequemlichkeit. It was pretty horrible to discover that we had been housing blood of several animals along with…certain parts of certain animals for a little less than two years. We came to the conclusion that beyond our work the next day, we would have our own little séance, bringing forth the spirit of my grandmother; the only one of the others to most likely to be able to speak English.

_A/N: Short chapter, I know, however I couldn't just simply put the séance into the second chapter. Third chapter will be the séance and it'll jump-start the story. I can't really make it any more forward than how it is at this moment. Keep reading and I swear that eventually she will get around to the actual Twilight part of the story. _

_Answer to what her last name (Jager) means: it's German for Hunter. _


	3. LightsBloodACTION!

_Lights….Blood…ACTION!_

"It says it requires one carrier pigeon feather to symbolize communication." Donna announced as I stared, my gaze upon the stone basin at the center between us. What was held behind the confines of the basin was nothing as we hadn't even begun yet however long white candles surrounded the basin, not yet lit but prepared to be lit at any time now. Donna uncorked one of the many jars, pulling free a thick hazel feather and placed it calmly in the center of the basin. "Drop of blood from the user to symbolize sacrifice," Donna continued as I turned my eyes away from the basin to her at the mention of blood. "I think my family was into a little bit of sadomasochism." I chuckled humorlessly as I turned to grab at the knife. Donna grabbed at the knife first however. "Well, I'm doing the spell so I think I should be the one to give my blood." She protested however I shook my head slowly, raising my eyebrows as though it were obvious. "It's my family we're collect calling; I get to put the quarter in the slot." I testily responded. Donna frowned at this, shaking her head and took the knife to her finger. Before I could stop my beloved friend, she had dragged a slit at the side of her finger, drips of scarlet already beginning to form.

A sigh escaped me as I came to realize I could never do anything to stop my best friend once she had set her mind on it. I simply hoped that it didn't come to a day where this could be the thing that cost her life. "Never heard of sacrificial séances; maybe Hollywood should get a turn at this." I managed out as Donna placed her finger over the basin, the thick drop of scarlet tugging away from her finger before finally dropping to spatter upon the feather. Once Donna had placed a Band-Aid around her finger, she continued to read. "Two drops of dog's blood to symbolize loyalty and worthiness." She finished as she took to the chest. "Ah, lucky number seventeen," I joked as I turned to glare at the basin. Once placing the jar upon the wooden floor, Donna dipped one of our unluckier butter knives into the jar and held the blood-covered knife over the bowl. "Wonder if it tastes like a hot dog," I murmured however wrinkled my nose at my own words. That had been a horrible joke.

"Laugh all you want, Cat; this is going to work." Donna remarked. At that, I felt the need to remind her. "We said we'd try this; we didn't say it'd work." I reminded my beloved friend as I absently flicked the stone basin. Donna rolled her eyes, pulling the stone basin just a small bit away from me to keep me from flicking it. I narrowed my eyes jokingly at her as she read on from the Bequemlichkeit. "Okay; all that needs to happen now is to set the ingredients aflame and light the candles." Donna announced, pulling her lighter from her pocket and beginning to light the candles, one by one. I wasn't allowed to play with fire.

A grin took over my lips, splitting my face as I stood from my cross-legged sitting position on the ground and rushed to the kitchen. Though Donna appeared confused at first she simply rolled her eyes once I returned with the rouge can and hose of the fire extinguisher. "Never too safe; it's our own house this time, not our parents' after all." I announced proudly as I sat once more, cross-legged with the fire extinguisher placed between my legs. Donna rolled her eyes once more before she finally stood to shut off the lights. The moment the light-switch touched the bottom of the socket, the only illumination within the room were the candles and the glare off of the fire extinguisher. I could only grin more at the sight. "Ooh, eerie." I managed to cackle as I stared at the stone basin.

Donna released a deep breath, snatching a rumpled piece of paper from my desk and sitting once more. "You ready?" She questioned nervously as she lifted her lighter to the piece of paper. I simply nodded as she flicked her lighter on and set flame to the scrap of paper. Before much could be said the paper was thrown into the stone basin.

_FWOOSH!_

The flames licked up for a moment, reaching higher and higher before…it was completely extinguished. Not only had the fire in the basin gone out but it had also taken with it the light from the candles, leaving us in a total abyss of darkness. For a moment I was frightened still, remembering every Bloody Mary story that I had heard in my life and remembering every scary story. However soon enough, that feeling of fright was just as gone as the flames and I managed to gather myself just enough to head in the direction of the light-switch. "See? I told you it wouldn't work." I announced as I reached out, my fingers brushing against the wall. I trailed my fingers against the wall until I felt the smooth, slick exterior of the light-switch and flicked the small nub upwards.

Donna and I released a scream of shock as we noted the other person in the room. Donna managed to clamber to her feet, turning in the same direction as me, facing the third person within the room that stood by the window. With the light on, it was clear as day who the person was by her frail, wrinkled face and her long, stringy white hair. Her pale blue eyes shone bright at the sight of me as I stood, stock-still and unable to speak. Finally the woman's frail lips parted in a grin and she began to speak.

"Sim-Cathy, my god you have grown." My grandmother spoke, her voice raspy as it had always been. However I refused to believe that this was my grandmother. "Did you put drugs in my coffee this morning, Don?" I managed out, my voice weak.

My eyes never left the frail, short woman that stood beside my window as Donna responded. "Nope," She answered simply. I frowned at this, my brow furrowing in frustration and impossibilities. "Well, is this some kind of hologram or something?" I questioned seriously. Donna frowned; I could feel it, before she responded. "The spell worked, Cat. That's your grandma." Donna stated as she placed a calm hand on my back.

Finally I took inventory on my grandmother; she wore the same thin burgundy knit cardigan she had been wearing the day of her death, the same jeans that sagged on her thin older body and the same black t-shirt beneath the cardigan. She even wore the thick rabbit slippers that she had been wearing. Though I believed that I was simply succumbing to the insanity and most likely a joke of others, my lips parted in shock and I spoke. "Grandma?" I called out.

My grandmother smiled, her lips parting. As I began to dart forward, my arms beginning to spread at my side, my grandmother held up a hand, halting me in my tracks. "My child, you won't be able to hug me and it is a very odd, uncomfortable feeling when someone runs straight through you." My grandma announced. I could only crack a smirk at this, pulling myself back to a straighter form and standing up straight.

My grandmother glanced at the chest as it stood, open with the lid placed calmly on my bed as it faced the opposite direction. She released a sigh, a rush of cold air being shown in the area before her. "What do you know?" My grandmother questioned seriously. My smirk dropped from my face as I recalled just why and how exactly she had come here. "Right," I murmured, looking to the ground and beginning to clear my throat. "Down to business," I managed to say before I turned to look up, my expression turning blank as I began to stare my grandmother in the face.

"We know that Natalie, you and a couple of others, maybe more, believe that you are…well, the journals refer to you as hunters. I mean, of things that are….supernatural." I attempted to explain, my hand reaching back to rub at the hot area on my neck in my embarrassment. My grandmother nodded before raising her eyebrows in indication to go on. So I released a deep breath before I continued. "And we think that you, the women of the Jager family or whatever, are possibly witches…due to the insane, dead and deeply disturbing stuff located in my newest fashion accessory." I rasped out, gesturing a hand at the chest before my bed.

My grandmother's face took on a new expression, one of curiosity and confusion (a now familiar feeling between us all). She parted her chapped lips, her chin lowering and causing her hair to fall in front of her face in an intimidating look. "What am I doing here then?" She questioned, her tone low and her voice serious. I blanched at this though I chose not to express this upon my face. She had merely been summoned as proof of the supernatural, not to be asked anything of any sorts. "I…" My voice trailed off as I took mind that I had no clue how to answer this. I blinked in realization of the perfect question upon to ask.

"I want to know," I announced though uncertainly and with a raspy tone. "I want to know why Natalie was….the way she was." I managed to just barely utter. My grandmother's expression took on a whole new, never before seen trait; shame. That shame appeared to be mixed with a tad bit of submission. It was as though she had no choice but to answer this question and I suppose that could be the flaw in being summoned once you're dead; you must help them. My grandmother twisted her fingers together, pinning a tent beneath her chin as she sucked in her lips in thought. Her eyes drifted for a moment to the hardwood floors of Donna's and my apartment. It was a few moments before my grandmother's eyes darted back up to me and she began to respond.

"You must understand that your mother had been very young at this time and that she had not yet met your father." My grandmother began in a tremendously serious tone, a very grave one that set a chill to my bones. I frowned though with a quick glance at my beloved friend, I nodded to assure my grandma that I was not going to judge just yet. "Your mother had been a woman of our family; a 'hunter' of sorts of all things that everyone else believes to be supernatural. However, to us, these creatures are just as commonly found as deer or humans." My grandmother announced. My frown loosened as I continued to listen, my mask slipping to express my awe just a bit. "There are things that many would believe to be fairy tales; cruel things they believed that the Brothers Grimm had simply elaborated within their minds and had not, themselves, witnessed." She continued.

A continuous, unrelenting series of slides began to whirl in my mind; the tragic horrors that I had seen within the pictures of the Brothers Grimm fairytales, the horrifying words of no happily ever after, and several devastating images of what must have happened to people within our world, our time, by these same creatures. "There are also many things that the Brothers had never witnessed and that are very true to this day; some that are very evil and cruel, others that are too mysterious and elusive for us to determine and others that are just wiser and more giving than us." She explained as Donna stepped over to the bed to take a seat, unable to stand anymore. I frowned at my best friend, wondering whether this was taking its toll on her however it was soon enough that I was distracted once more by my grandmother's spirit. Her face had begun to appear older and not by something supernatural but by the toll that her news was taking upon her.

"There is a thing, an action, called Power Exchange." My grandmother announced, her tone drier than it had been a moment ago. "It is when one sells their soul in order to control a large quantity of power, such as small armies of demons or some of the supernatural kind. Many evil had used this before and our family had always been there to stop these armies or to at least put them off for a century or two." She went on as I stood my ground. Though I felt the need to sit down, at this moment I believed that to show a sign of weakness and that if I did that, my grandmother would stop saying all this. "When a certain creature, much, much stronger than all other beings, came along, your mother had no clue as to what to do. For a while she was left hopeless, believing that we were all doomed to either die or become slaves to this creature." Grandmother said as I managed to just ever-so-barely shut my eyes. I knew what was coming by now; my grandmother had left enough clues. "So she sold her soul to control the armies and defeat this thing." I finished for my grandmother, feeling somewhat cliché for not having let my grandmother finish. When I opened my eyes my grandmother was nodding, her face having slipped into a solemn mask.

"Your mother was young and she met your father in the middle of a large war that humans didn't know about unless they were aware of supernatural beings. Your father had no clue as to what he had been getting into." My grandmother said. I frowned yet again. "Natalie still loved my father, even after she lost her soul." I admitted aloud. She nodded, a small smile creeping onto her face. "They were soul mates and she loved him with every part of her; even the parts that were left behind." She announced. My frown softened at this. So love wasn't mythical, hmm?

For a while all was silent; Donna and I were processing this information as my grandmother was just a visitor. Through the past two days, my life had changed considerably from one of a job and a roommate, to one that involved creatures and a duty. "The hunting line," I managed to utter to my grandmother. "Since I inherited it, does this mean….?" My voice trailed off as I looked up to my grandmother as she slowly yet efficiently nodded. "Yes, you are due to become a Hunter as you now know of this responsibility." She declared softly. I could feel a prick behind my nose and my eyes begin to sting with the oncoming tears however I didn't want to shed them.

"What if I don't want to?" I announced, my voice cracking and raspy as I peered up to my grandmother with a broken expression. My grandmother frowned, looking as though she wished to comfort me however she couldn't. "Many have tried and failed to deny the responsibility of being a Jager woman. Many who had known long before you, been trained for years and years," My grandmother said. "However all of them had also found ways to become guilty, seeing the things that happened due to their ignorance, and have given up on being so ignorant." She said softly, her voice as though that were the way she were to comfort me.

As I began to feel my mind processing this information, a new enraged feeling began to slowly grow in the back of my mind; a feeling that indicated that I did not want to go down without a fight, that I did not want to simply accept the fact that I had no say in what I was to do for the rest of my life. "So, what? I just go pack up the Impala and grab some diner grub on the way?" I hissed, making my anger known to both my grandmother and to Donna. Both seemed mildly surprised though not too much. "I have no clue what that means, Sim-Cathy." My grandmother admitted feebly. I frowned, the sarcastic quip obviously with no effect on my grandmother. My grandmother's expression lightened, hope beginning to seep.

"You could always ask an Athena for help." My grandmother suggested. I frowned at that, obviously having no clue as to what she was speaking of. Surprisingly it was Donna who answered my thoughts. "An Athena is a creature of wisdom; they offer advice in exchange for a spell to conjure them." Donna explained. My frown only steepened at this. I had roped in my beloved best friend to this world that she can no longer ignore. I shut my eyes for a moment, reaching my forefingers to my temples and beginning to rub as I began to consider my options.

However once I had opened my eyes…my grandmother was gone.


	4. Athena

_ATHENA: Not a goddess but a creature conjured for advice. Once called upon, an Athena will guide the caller to their fated destination and purpose._

Tim growled out his truck noises as he sat, buckled into the seat of the grocery cart. I could only smile at my little brother's innocence, grateful that he at least had it for now. "What ya playing, Tim-tom?" I cooed to my little brother as I halted the cart next to the shelf that held Tim's favorite cereal; Cookie Crisp. Tim glanced up for a brief moment from his toy pick-up truck before turning back to it and answering without looking at me. "I, is playing the fast and the furry." Tim answered, his voice small at his four-year old state. I smirked at this as I dropped the box of chocolate-chip flavored cereal into the back of the cart without Tim realizing. He began to make the engine noises once more as I turned to push the cart along yet again.

My dad had warned me that Tim had walked in on him watching 'The Fast and the Furious' and had taken a liking to it. He insisted that my little brother had been playing with toy cars forever since then. I chuckled at my little brother's antics as I pushed the cart in the direction of the freezer-section. With the amount of chocolate within my smaller brother's cereal, we would have to balance it out with frozen vegetables that I could cook together.

"You want some baby food, Tim-tom?" I teased my smaller brother as I searched the frozen glass of every compartment, searching for the vegetables. Almost instantly Tim's tongue darted out in disgust at the mention of baby food. "Nuh-uh, Sib," Tim growled out. "I is a big boy, Sib; I is a big boy." He announced proudly. I snickered at the thought of Tim being a "big boy". He never seemed to grow any older despite his change of appearance and his now talent of talking. "Oh, really, Tim-tom? Are you _really_ a big boy?" I teased as I pulled open the freezer compartment that held the frozen carrots. Tim's head bobbed vigorously as he settled his toy truck onto his lap. "Yep! Yep! I is almost this many!" He cried out, raising up both hands wide open.

I could only laugh at Tim and his mind. "Sorry to say, honey, but ya got six more years to go." I laughed as I dropped the frozen carrots into the back of the cart. Tim's eyes caught hold of the carrots and followed them to the back of the cart. His jaw dropped and his eyes widened in delight as his eyes laid upon the Cookie Crisp. His small hands darted to the back of the cart and his body twisted in a way that concerned me to reach the chocolaty cereal. "Ah," I quipped righting him in his seat. "You'll have to wait until morning; that's breakfast, not a snack." I scolded as I placed my hands on the handlebar to drive the cart forward.

I pushed the cart forward at the end of the aisle when abruptly the front end of another grocery cart appeared and collided with mine, the metals scraping and scratching. Immediately I peered down to check that Tim was alright though it was a small collision. "Oh, Simone, honey! I am just so terribly sorry," A ragged raspy voice cried out from the handlebar of the opposite cart. I whipped my head upwards, shocked to see the elderly woman from across the street. Mrs. Hoffman had always been a kind old gossiper that had gotten me lemonade as a young girl and paid me to shovel her snow in the winters. She was a small woman, smaller than my own tiny form only by a few short inches at 4'5". Her long mahogany hair had always been pulled up in a messy bun, always clipped at the back with a jeweled pendant of sorts. Today she appeared more casual than I'd ever seen her in an olive and custard plaid day-dress and a set of Mary-Jane slip-ons.

"Its fine, Mrs. Hoffman." I said as I pulled my cart back just the tiniest bit to allow the elderly woman to go forward. "Why, look at you!" Mrs. Hoffman exclaimed as she came up parallel to me. The elderly woman reached a frail hand out, running her palm down my face in an odd way. I furrowed my brow in confusion at why she was doing this. "My, child, you have certainly grown. When I last saw you, you were packing your bags and ready to hitch it on out of your papa's house." Mrs. Hoffman announced. "I wouldn't say that; I just wanted to move out," I managed to murmur though it didn't make it to Mrs. Hoffman's ears. "Oh, but look at me; I better not dawdle. Mr. Hoffman is expecting supper by seven." Mrs. Hoffman said as she began to make her way away from me.

I turned to Tim, my eyes wide and my expression announcing my confusion at the abrupt meeting with my previous neighbor. "What do you think that was, Tim-tom?" I murmured rhetorically. Tim looked up, reaching his hands high and giving a menacing expression before releasing a child-like roar. "Ooh, a monster, you say," I gasped playfully.

* * *

><p>"Says you'll be guided to your fated destination and purpose." Donna announced, reading from the Bequemlichkeit as she dropped the bird feather into the basin. I rolled my eyes at the woman as she passed the knife to me. "And then two drops of human blood." I murmured as I lifted the knife to my index finger. "What does it even mean when it says 'guide'?" I questioned as I slit my finger, wincing at the sharp yet thin pain of the cut. "Not sure; maybe make little differences or something. It could be gradual, I'm betting." Donna sighed as she watched my blood drop onto the feathers within the basin. "So it might take a while before it kicks in." She said, reaching behind her to the book of matches. I frowned at this though I couldn't expect any less of the supernatural world, being slow and causing me to become impatient.<p>

"Alright; here goes."


	5. Paul

**Paul:**

A crash of thunder caused Jacob's rickety house to shudder as we clutched the game-controllers in our hands, attempting not to shatter any of the controls. Billy glanced outside, his brow furrowing in confusion. Oddly I was a bit confused as well. It had been one of the rare days among our lovely town that the sun decided to show its face but this was Washington and we got rain near about 24/7. Billy pulled at the wheels on his chair, reeling himself toward the window.

"That sounds familiar," Billy murmured as my player launched a torpedo at Jacob's player. "Dad, do we need to start looking at 'homes'?" Jacob teased as he pressed and pulled at his controller. I frowned as my player died once more, growling at the game on the television. "God damn it!" I cried out in frustration as Jacob didn't allow me enough time to respond on the game. Jacob roared in laughter however the game was quiet enough as to where we heard the door creak on its hinges.

We hadn't heard Billy leaving the house.

"Dad?" Jacob cried out, launching himself from his seat to head out the door. The door bobbed on its hinges as Jacob rushed through it to care to his dad's side if anything had happened. I followed yet a little more easily paced. Though he wasn't my father, I knew him enough to understand that Billy could handle his own with anything and he wouldn't go down without a fight. I glanced out the window before I escaped through the doorway. What I saw, though, shocked the living daylights out of me; Billy (in his chair) hovering over a huddled figure in the mud at the end of the driveway as Jacob was close by.

I managed to escape the confines of the house in just enough time to see Jacob kneel by the huddled form's side. "What is it, Jake?" I called out as I rushed to my best friend's side. Jake glanced up, squinting in the downpour of rain to peer up at me before he quickly returned his gaze to the form on the ground. "I think it's a girl." He answered as he reached his hands beneath the form to elevate the girl and pluck her from the ground. I made no protest that Jake would carry the girl before finally I caught side of the person that Jake had been speaking of.

Though Jake moved quickly enough to attempt to get the girl out of the mud and away from the rain, time paused enough to allow me at least one bright image of this gorgeous woman. Her face was round yet her features were angular, as her eyes were closed. Her hair, a tangled mane of scarlet red, pulled and tugged in the wind and open rain from Jacob's arms. Her body was amazingly slender yet curvy in all the right angles from behind a taut black t-shirt and a set of jeans. I was concerned as I discovered that not only were her feet bare but also her hand was bleeding like crazy.

"What happened to her hand?" I voiced, concern seeping easily into my voice. I cleared my throat, embarrassed that I was getting all flustered over this one stranger. Jacob glanced down at her hand, shrugging and jostling her body within his arms. Immediately I gripped beneath this gorgeous girl's body and pulled her away from Jacob's horrible arms. I couldn't stand it if Jake had been careless enough to drop her and I think I might just rip his arms off for being so completely careless.

Billy frowned from his seat, snatching at this gorgeous girl's hand and peering at it intently. A growl escaped my throat at him as I noted that he could be hurting her at this very moment by touching her wound. "We need to get it disinfected and wrap it." Billy insisted, his eyes darting to me in a glare. Jacob was still staring at me after having her taken away from his arms in such a drastic motion. Both appeared confused though not enough. I nodded vigorously to Billy's suggestion, my head moving even too fast for my own liking.

I peered down at this mysterious stranger, taking inventory of every cut and bruise that I could find without her waking up to feel invaded. A few marginal cuts dabbed at her right cheek, the cheek she'd been laying on when Billy had discovered her no doubt. Other than the occasional cut on her right side and her left hand bleeding, she appeared unscathed. Still I was concerned with the wound on her hand, afraid that it might be too close to her wrist and that she could possibly die from such a cut.

"How'd she get here?" Jake questioned as he followed and I carefully carried the young woman in my arms, through the doorway into the house. Billy was silent as I managed to carefully settle the dripping girl onto Billy's couch and stuff a pillow beneath her head. "Jake, go get her a blanket. Who knows how long she's been out in that damn rain," Billy announced suddenly as we all simply stared. Jake nodded once before heading off to the nearest hallway closet to fetch the blanket. Billy's tone frightened me; a tone that was harder than it had been earlier and considerably less delighted. Something was off and he considered it to be too out of his way; it was the tone he used whenever he had to do something he didn't want to.

"You're not gonna kill her, are ya, Bill?" I half-joked as I glanced between the girl and Billy. When Billy didn't answer I returned my gaze to the girl. He wouldn't insist that she die unless she was a leech and she didn't smell very leech-like. No, in fact she smelt fantastic; like chocolate and vanilla. I reached my hand out, running my hand over her forehead to check for a fever. I was even more frightened when she didn't even stir at my touch. I reached two fingers out, checking at her pulse at the side of her neck. As far as I could tell she had a steady pulse and might as well be the healthiest stranger alive.

Billy's eyes darted back and forth between me and the stranger, his eyes casting a light shadow upon his face. He wasn't very happy about her arrival however it didn't seem like he hated her either. "Who is she, Billy?" I asked finally. He had to know; he just looked like he knew. "As far as I know, her name is Catherine." Billy announced. I frowned at the sound of the name; Catherine. The name seemed too bland for such a gorgeous girl. "How do you know her, dad?" Jake asked as he entered the room with the blanket.

Almost immediately I took the blanket from Jacob and unfolded the soft cloth. "I don't; I knew her mom though. Back about twenty years ago, her mom and I had a…well, let's call it a friendship." Billy said as I settled the blanket around the young girl. I pulled free her wounded hand and glanced around. "There's some rubbing alcohol in the bathroom; top cupboard. Get a washcloth to go with it and some gauze." Billy informed me. I was off before anyone could say a word.

I scavenged the cupboard in the bathroom, searching for the rubbing alcohol. My heart was pounding out of my chest as I returned with a washcloth, a roll of gauze and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. No one had moved since I had left and I didn't suspect it was because I was so fast. No one knew what to do here.

* * *

><p>I was stirred awake by a movement at the top of my head. I frowned behind closed eyes as a high-pitched hum came from above me. After a few moments I decided I could not go back to sleep and decided to open my eyes. Blinking awake, I accepted in a deep breath before I reached up, scrubbing my face with my hands to get myself more awake.<p>

The high pitched hum set out again, echoing in the room though I doubted Jake or Billy could hear it from their rooms or in their sleep. Still, the hum was a beautiful sound. I looked up to peer at the girl and assure myself that she was alright. I was shocked to find her eyes opened and her turned over on her side, facing me. Though her eyes were only half opened they still caught my attention in a beautiful emerald gaze.

If I had heard a crack, I would've suspected the earth had shattered beneath my feet however no such crack sounded and my body kept its place. At the moment that her eyes caught contact with mine, I felt that I never wanted to look away or to blink. I would rather peel my eyelids open than blink and look away for even a second. She was completely beautiful; earth-shatteringly gorgeous. Never would I ever find a girl beautiful enough to even compare to her. Never would I even dare look at another girl for after this moment, for now and forever, my life would be dedicated to this woman.

"Hi," I murmured to the girl. My voice sounded choked off and raspy. It was completely unworthy of her. Still, she smiled at least just a little bit. I was grateful to at least see that. "Hello," She answered just as quietly, that smile turning softly into a smirk upon her lips. I couldn't help but respond with my own smirk. "Are you flirting with me?" I managed to mumble in response to her smirk. A chuckle escaped the young woman as she glanced at the couch cushions beneath her then turned her eyes back to me. "All I said was 'hello'." She answered behind her chuckle.

The girl shook loose her hand from the blanket, peering at the gauze in confusion. "Yeah, uh, we took the liberty of wrapping up your hand." I said as my smile disappeared. Whatever had done that to her hand would pay. I glanced down at my shuddering hand placed on my thigh and managed to clench it into a fist. I didn't want to phase before her. "What happened to it?" She asked curiously, her brow furrowing cutely. I frowned at this. "You don't remember?" I asked, only to be responded with by a shake of her head. This only managed to cause me to shake even more.

Something that had done that to her hand could've just as easily given her amnesia and if that happened we would never discover anything about this girl. I stood from the ground, my entire body beginning to shudder. "I gotta go," I managed to utter though it had come out as a growl. I darted out of the house before she could question anything.


	6. Billy

"Catherine?"

I glanced up from the couch that I lay upon, still shocked from what had happened earlier. That man or boy. I didn't want to believe it however he had shown symptoms of a shape-shifter which meant that my first encounter with the paranormal (or at least a face-to-face encounter with a live supernatural creature) had gone unnoticed by me until it had become too late.

Upon thinking of the name I was called, my expression began to turn blank and my mind was already generating quips. "Nope but you're close." I rasped out, my throat dry at both that man's odd actions this morning and the mention of my middle name. "Scarily close, in fact," I managed to say as I dragged my feet to the ground. A man wheeled himself into the den that I had been sleeping in, the wheels screeching as the man halted his wheelchair. The man was older by far, appearing around my father's age with long, overgrown black hair. The man was still pent up in his long thin blue robe and flannel pajamas, no slippers or shoes.

"You're Natalie's girl, right?" The man questioned. However he didn't appear very happy, saying her name. "Unfortunately," I murmured as I glanced down at my feet. I reached down, patting my pockets however it appeared that I had forgotten my cell phone at home. "Simone," I managed to sigh as I looked up at the man from my seat. I slouched until my elbows touched my knees and reached one hand out; my uninjured hand. The elderly man glanced at my hand, wary before shaking it in a firm grip.

"Billy." The man introduced, a simple monotone and yet his hand clutched onto mine. Billy's eyes darted from one end of the room to the next. It was quite obvious that he didn't want to be overheard by either the shape-shifters or anyone else. Finally, Billy turned his eyes to me, hard yet not entirely cold. Perhaps it was the memory of Natalie that made him cold to me; it would make anyone cold to me. Unfortunately, I had to live with the unwanted memory of my birth mother's cruelty.

"I was a…an old friend of your mother's." Billy managed to scrape out. He didn't seem too willing to call himself a friend of Natalie's. Of course, I wasn't too willing to call myself her daughter either. "Really now…" I muttered, sarcasm poisoning each tone of the small two-worded sentence. "Well, not so much friend; we were…acquaintances. More colleagues; connected by business rather," Billy fixed within himself, seeming more comfortable with this connection to Natalie. I would love to be able to say that I was "connected by business" to Natalie, not by umbilical cord.

"Ah," I announced, my eyes darting wide to emphasis the disbelieving statement. I spoke as if what he'd just said explained everything about his connection to Natalie. In a way, I suppose it did; it meant that he knew about my family's little…hobby. I suppose I couldn't call it an occupation as, as far as I know, the Jager family was never paid for their "services". It meant that Billy was all too aware of the supernatural situation that appeared to be all over here….wherever I was.

"How'd you two…um, work together?" I questioned, a little bit curious however more cautious than anything. Billy chuckled, his cheeks twisting from a small wry smile that formed on his chapped lips. It was a nice chuckle, not unalike to my father's own however…his seemed more real. My father was always just a little bit on the bitter side, always crushed by how Natalie ended up. That was another reason she'd been dead to me, long before she was buried. "Oh, it was over twenty years ago; just before you were born, I'm supposing." Billy granted, his chuckle dying down in its sadness of the situation. I was a bit sad to hear that.

"Um, about two years before…I guess. I'm eighteen," I explained, my voice stammering within the awkwardness that usually came along with talking about Natalie. Usually, I would say I didn't want to talk about her, let the person assume that I had any feelings whatsoever for her and that it was too "hard" to talk about her. Billy could help me, though; help me figure out how to stay away from whatever it was that made Natalie into the cruel, soulless person that she ended up being.

Billy and I both stiffened as we heard the discernible sounds that convinced us that someone was coming and neither of us wanted to be caught in the conversation that was clearly inevitable; both to help me, and for Billy to relive what was obviously a very hard time for him. The elderly man lifted his eyebrows, attempting to seem less burdened and a little lighter as a burly man stepped through the doorway, ducking his head to fit into the house.

Compared to this newcomer, this man, the house we stood in with a roof far too high for me to ever dream of touching the ceiling without a lengthy ladder seemed made for dwarfs. I did feel like a dwarf, in fact, though I was above the legal height; at least, compared to these larger men than I, I felt like one. The newcomer grinned as he approached Billy, nearly bending to pat the elderly man upon his shoulder. The man glanced at me, obviously already aware of my presence.

"Hey, dad; when'd pip-squeak wake up?" The larger man quipped as he gripped onto Billy's shoulder. I frowned at this. Not only did I not like being called "pip-squeak", I also felt it was quite obvious that this was, yet, another shape-shifter. At least, this time I knew before he ran from the room. According to the Bequemlichkeit, shape-shifters were fairly friendly; helpful, even, according to Dianna Jager. However, that was with another clan of shape-shifters and these were considered untested waters.

"'Pip-squeak' woke up just a few hours ago." Thankfully I managed to keep my voice steady though I felt as though I'd swallowed a cup and a half of nails. The man turned his eyes in my direction and interested me in a cocky grin. I widened my eyes and allowed my jaw to drop a little, hoping to deceive him into believing that I was at all shocked by his appearance. However, nothing appeared to shock me anymore. I'm not exactly sure how good of an actress I am however it appeared to make his grin turn even cockier and let him believe that I was, indeed, shocked. Ha.

To keep at least a smidgen of my dignity, I snapped my jaw shut and took my expression back to the neutral mask that I saw each time I looked in a mirror. The man grinned fully; expressing what seemed likely overly-whitened teeth and thrust out a thick, bulbous hand. I frowned at the hand, glancing between the flesh of his palm to his eyes and back before finally grasping it in my own in a handshake. Immediately my hand was engulfed in what seemed like boiling flesh and untrimmed nails. "I'm Jacob," The man announced proudly, as though his name were the most honorable badge there was. I could only chuckle behind a smirk as I responded. "I'm Sim," I responded, my voice just barely over a murmur. Jacob grinned. "Yeah, Paul said Catherine couldn't be your name. Said it was too 'bland' or some shit like that," Jacob laughed as he vigorously shook my hand.

Paul.

A part of me instantly knew, somehow, that this was the name of that man that I had woken up to. "That's very interesting," I managed to say as I noted that I hadn't spoken in what seemed like forever. Instantly, I heard a soft, knowing chuckle of who could only be Billy. I finally pulled my hand free of Jacob's as I noted that my hand was still there. "So, Paul is…" I questioned curiously, willing them to confirm my instinctual guess. "Oh, you met him! He's the guy that acted like a freak and ran out of the house. Forgot he left the oven on," Jacob laughed easily as he plopped gruffly on the couch. It appeared that he was not just coming in to stop in quickly. No, it appeared Jacob wanted to stay.

Soon enough, my mind clicked back together, forming the train of thought from earlier yet again. Donna! "Um, could I possibly use your phone?" I requested of Billy, pulling my hands together in a playful clap. Billy's eyebrows shot up yet again as he realized that I must need this; he obviously knew something about how I'd gotten here if he knew so much of my family's history. I silently wondered if he knew of the war…

"Of course, Simone," Billy announced loudly as I felt it was to possibly alert me of the shape-shifters that I obviously couldn't see. This meant they were going to listen in on me. Which meant this could get…sloppy.

* * *

><p>Glasses clinked as silverware scratched at china and people bustled quietly, their candlelit dinners a romantic setting for them. However Billy and I were off in the family section, an unlikely place for us to come as it was quite the expensive dinner. "We could've just gone to a diner somewhere downtown." I chuckled as I fished a strand of lasagna away from the plate before me. Billy chuckled from across from me, odd with his hair pulled back and a tie around his neck over a bright blue dress shirt. Though he didn't blend easily within the crowds of people, it was still unnoticed that we were here.<p>

"If we had, Jacob and the boys would have easily caught up to us; preparing a run-in just to eavesdrop." Billy murmured, attempting to keep his voice low as we didn't want to have come so far as Port Angeles simply to be overheard by some common city-folk. "Those boys don't know when to let things lie." Billy grumbled as he attempted at catching a strand of spaghetti. "Are you ever going to tell them?" I questioned curiously as I lifted my glass of Coke to my lips.

Billy cocked an eyebrow in my direction as he finally lifted his fork to his open mouth. "You mean of the existence of creatures other than vampires and shape-shifters?" Billy confirmed. I nodded as I swallowed my mouthful of Coke. Billy chewed thoughtfully on his forkful of spaghetti. I, myself, had a love for all things pasta so I felt it was a dangerous deal to bring me to an Italian restaurant. "They'll discover it on their own." Billy growled out as though it was such an unfortunate event that one day they would discover life beyond what they knew. "The Council's already decided that it would bring too much stress to them and they couldn't believe such….'religious' views on some of the creatures that we come across." He announced quietly.

Though several times a waiter might have possibly given us an odd look; perhaps for the age difference, perhaps for the talk we decided to have far off the reservation. "Not to mention their insatiable need to destroy anything they might not understand," I managed to laugh as I toyed with a lock of lasagna noodles. Billy narrowed his eyes, an insanely obvious signal for "this is a serious situation; don't joke". After a hefty moment of silence, Billy finally sighed, breaking the small yet thick tension that arose in the absence of talk.

"I would like it if…" Billy trailed off as obviously the next words were going to be hard on him. He was going to ask me something, something he didn't feel comfortable asking a stranger to do. It was obviously a big favor. "You would like it if I didn't mention anything about knowing about them." I finished, still feeling that sting of cliché that always arose when I did that.

Billy nodded, the gray strands becoming more noticeable as his head bobbed. I nodded along, turning my eyes down to the plate before me. I caught sight of my hand, still wrapped in gauze and thick with a throb from such a tight wrap. "I'm assuming that you know how I got this." I murmured as I kept my eyes landed squarely upon the gauze on my hand. Billy's eyes followed my line of sight as he drew in a sharp breath through his teeth.

"You're new to the craft; you didn't know to bring an offering to Athena when you call on one." Billy murmured as he ate some more spaghetti. Though it was a serious conversation, the way that Billy attempted to drop his spaghetti into his mouth caused me to snort.

Staying with Billy was going to be very odd.

_A/N: Again, super short chapter but it just felt right to put this in; explain everything one way or another. I just wanted everyone to be aware that I was going to make it a SECRET that she is going to hunt. Super-sorry for the short chapter, again! I swear, I'll give you guys a long chapter one day. Next one, I think, is gonna be in Paul's POV. _


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